Hard to Handle (16 page)

He rolled over with her, still a part of her body, his voice whispering, coaxing. His mouth brushed against hers, his lips tender, his hands touching her. His mouth settled gently on hers and he began to move, very slowly.

She jerked helplessly. “Phillip!” she exclaimed as the sudden pleasure made her rigid.

“Hold on,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’m going to make you want me so badly that you’ll fly in my arms. Bite me. That’s it, bite me!” he whispered fiercely.

She’d dreamed of a tender, slow initiation with moonbeams and pink clouds. Instead, it was like a vicious fever with pleasure so throbbing and fierce and merciless that she became wanton.

Her nails bit into him, like her teeth. He pushed her down into the mattress with the rough thrust of his body and she arched up to receive it, her legs tangling in his. She looked up at him, her eyes fastened to his, her breath gasping out as his face moved closer and then away, and the mattress rose and fell noisily.

“Look down,” he said under his breath.

She did, too lost in him to be shy anymore. He looked, too, and when her eyes met his, passion was smoldering in them.

“Show me where, Jennifer,” he whispered, moving her hands to his hips. “Teach me where you feel the most pleasure when I move.”

She flushed, but she obeyed him, guided his body, and cried out when he followed her lead. And then it all seemed to explode at once. His movements were rough and quick, his powerful body strong enough for both of them, his hands controlling her wild thrashing, holding her down, making her submit. His mouth crushed into hers and she heard his tortured breathing, his harsh groans, as the pleasure arched him into her body.

Incredibly she went with him. Soaring. Up into the sun. Shivering with cold and heat so intricately mingled that she was only living as part of him. She was saying something, but she couldn’t hear her own voice.

When she opened her eyes again, there was a new kind of lassitude in her limbs. They felt numb and boneless, like the rest of her body. She could breathe again. Her heartbeat was almost normal.

A dark, loving pair of eyes came into view above her. “That,” he
whispered, “is the sweetest expression of love I’ll ever experience in my life. You’re my woman.”

“Yes.” She said it with shy pride, because now it was over. The mystery was gone, but the magic remained. She touched his mouth, fascinated. “Will I get pregnant from it?” she whispered.

He smiled lazily. “I hope so,” he whispered. “Creation should be like this, from seed so exquisitely planted in love. Now do you understand what I meant, about not making a casual entertainment out of something so profound? The ultimate glory of lovemaking is the act of creation.” He bent and kissed her with rapt tenderness. “I want to plant my seed in you. If we can make a baby together, even if he is a product of two worlds, I want to.”

She clung to him, her mouth ardent and loving. “So do I,” she whispered huskily. “Oh, so do I! I love you.”

“I love you just as much,” he said with fierce possession. He was surprised at how quickly his body responded when he kissed her, at the kindling passion that bound them together almost at once.

“No, don’t stop,” she whispered when he hesitated.

“It’s too soon…”

“No!” She pulled him down to her and put her mouth hungrily against his and felt him shudder. She opened her eyes as his body slid over hers and they melted together with delicious ease.

“You see?” she whispered shakily. “It’s so easy now.”

“So easy.” He smiled tenderly and his mouth bent to hers. He bit at it, very gently, and his body echoed that tenderness, his arms enfolding hers. He rolled abruptly onto his side and smiled at her surprise. “That night in Washington, I wanted to do it like this, remember? Now we can. Put this leg over mine, here,” he guided softly. “Now, like this…!”

She watched his face contort as his hand brought her hips
suddenly against his. It was fascinating to watch him, to see the passion kindle and ignite.

“Jennifer, you’re staring,” he whispered.

“I know. I want to watch you,” she whispered back, her eyes wide and soft and curious. “Is it all right if I look?”

He shuddered. Her fascination with his pleasure brought it all too soon. His body buckled and began to shudder. He felt the familiar tension building to flashpoint, hamstringing him, racking him. He looked into her eyes and felt her hands shyly tugging at his hips and he cried out.

Convulsions of unbearable pleasure ripped through him. He was aware at some level of her stare, of her scarlet face as she saw him experience fulfillment. It made it all the more shattering. He was helpless and she was seeing him this way, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was burning. Burning. Burning!

He cried out, his body rippling beside hers. She pressed into his arms and helped him, loving the fury of his hands gripping her hips, loving the unbridled pleasure she saw in his face. He was truly hers, now. Completely hers. She shivered, amazed that his own satisfaction caused her body to fulfill itself in one long, hot wave of shuddering pleasure.

Long afterward, they slept. When she woke at last, it was to the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. She got up and dressed, slowly, with the memory of what had happened like a candle in her mind.

Phillip was standing at the stove cooking steak. He was wearing only the trousers from his suit. His chest and feet were bare. He glanced up as she joined him, and his eyes were warm and tender.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, opening one arm to draw her to him and kiss her softly.

“A little,” she whispered. Her eyes met his. “Do you really love me?”

“With all my heart,” he whispered back, his eyes punctuating the words. “Life without you is no life, Jennifer. You’ll have to get used to having an Apache husband.”

“You want to marry me?” she asked, holding her breath.

He put down the fork he was using to turn the steak and brought her against him, bending to kiss her with fierce hunger. “Of course I want to marry you!” he said impatiently, when he lifted his head. “I always did. But the memory of how it was for my mother colored my whole life. Until my grandfather told me the truth—that my father was only a conversation piece for her; that she never loved him. He sent me to you,” he added huskily. “He said that I was a fool.”

She smiled gently. “No. Just a man afraid to trust. But I’ll never hurt you, my darling,” she said, sliding her arms around him, laying her blond head on his bare chest. “I’ll give you children and live with you anywhere you say.”

“Your job…” he began.

“Geology isn’t something you forget. I’ll have babies for a few years, then when they’re in school, I’ll work out of the Tucson or Phoenix offices. Eugene won’t fire me completely.”

His lean hands stilled on her back. “I can’t let you make that kind of sacrifice for me.”

She lifted her head. “You gave up fieldwork,” she replied. “And I know how much you loved it. You did that because of me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted finally. “I didn’t want the risk. I was thinking about how it would be for you and the children while I was away.”

She smiled with pure delight. “Me and the children,” she
mused. “And yet you went away swearing that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Lying through my teeth,” he added with a dry chuckle. “I drove my grandfather crazy.”

She reached up and touched his thick, dark eyebrows. “We’re so different in coloring. I wonder if our children will look like you or me?”

“I hope they’ll look like both of us,” he replied. “My grandfather said that I was living proof that a man can have a foot in two worlds.” He smiled at her. “He doesn’t like whites, as a rule, but he’ll like you.”

“My parents will like you,” she returned.

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Well, I did just happen to tell them about you a few thousand times over the past few years, and I had this picture that I begged out of the personnel files. My mother thought you were striking, and my father was sure you’d be able to keep me out of dangerous places if I ever married you.”

“They don’t mind the cultural differences?” he stressed.

“They raised me with a mind of my own and let me use it,” she replied. “They’re not rigid people, as you’ll see when you meet them. They’re very educated people with tolerant personalities. Besides all that, they want grandchildren.”

“I see. That was the selling point, was it?” he murmured.

“Yes, it was. So we’d better set a date and get busy.”

He bent and kissed her, ignoring the smell of burning steak. “How does next Friday suit you?” he asked.

“Just fine.” She kissed him back, smiling. The steak went right on burning, and nobody noticed until it was the color of tar and
the texture of old leather. Which was just as well, because they were in too much of a hurry to get to the courthouse for a marriage license to worry about food, anyway.

A
lexander Tyrell Cobb glared at his desk in the Houston Drug Enforcement Administration office with barely contained frustration. There was a photograph of a lovely woman in a ball gown in an expensive frame, the only visible sign of any emotional connections. Like the conservative clothes he wore to work, the photograph gave away little of the private man.

The photograph was misleading. The woman in it wasn’t a close friend. She was a casual date, when he was between assignments. The frame had been given to him with the photo in it. He’d never put a woman’s photo in a frame. Well, except for Jodie Clayburn. She and his sister, Margie, were best friends from years past. Most of the family photos he had included Jodie. She wasn’t really family, of course. But there was no other Cobb family left, just as there was no other Clayburn family left. The three survivors of the two families were a forced mixture of different lifestyles.

Jodie was in love with Alexander. He knew it, and tried not to acknowledge it. She was totally wrong for him. He had no desire to marry and have a family. On the other hand, if he’d been seri
ously interested in children and a home life, Jodie would have been at the top of his list of potential mates. She had wonderful qualities. He wasn’t about to tell her so. She’d been hung up on him in the past to a disturbing degree. He’d managed to keep her at arm’s length, and he had no plans to lessen the space between them. He was married to his job.

Jodie, on the other hand, was an employee at a local oil corporation which was being used in an international drug smuggling operation. Alexander was almost certain of it. But he couldn’t prove it. He was going to have to find some way to investigate one of Jodie’s acquaintances without letting anyone realize they were being watched.

In the meantime, there was a party planned at the Cobb ranch in Jacobsville, Texas, on Saturday. He dreaded it already. He hated parties. Margie had already invited Jodie, probably because their housekeeper, Jessie, refused to work that weekend. Jodie cooked with a masterful hand, and she could make canapés. Kirry had been invited, too, because Margie was a budding dress designer who needed a friend in the business. Kirry was senior buyer for the department store where she worked. She was pretty and capable, but Alexander found her good company and not much more. Their relationship had always been lukewarm and even now, it was slowly fizzling out. She was demanding. He had enough demands on the job.

He put the picture facedown on his desk and pulled a file folder closer, opening it to the photograph of a suspected drug smuggler who was working out of Houston. He had his work cut out for him. He wished he could avoid going home for the party, but Margie would never forgive him. If he didn’t show up, neither would Kirry, and Alexander would never hear the end of it. He put the weekend to the back of his mind and concentrated on the job at hand.

T
here was no way out of it. Margie Cobb had invited her to a party on the family ranch in Jacobsville, Texas. Jodie Clayburn had gone through her entire repertoire of excuses. Her favorite was that, given the right incentive, Margie’s big brother, Alexander Tyrell Cobb, would feed her to his cattle. Not even that one had worked.

“He hates me, Margie,” she groaned over the phone from her apartment in Houston, Texas. “You know he does. He’d be perfectly happy if I stayed away from him for the rest of my natural life and he never had to see me again.”

“That’s not true,” Margie defended. “Lex really likes you, I know he does,” she added with forced conviction, using the nickname that only a handful of people on earth were allowed to use. Jodie wasn’t one of them.

“Right. He just hides his affection for me in bouts of bad temper laced with sarcasm,” came the dry reply.

“Sure,” Margie replied with failing humor.

Jodie lay back on her sofa with the freedom phone at her ear
and pushed back her long blond hair. It was getting too long. She really needed to have it cut, but she liked the feel of it. Her gray eyes smiled as she remembered how much Brody Vance liked long hair. He worked at the Ritter Oil Corporation branch office in Houston with her, and was on the management fast track. As Jody was. She was administrative assistant to Brody, and if Brody had his way, she’d take his job as Human Resources generalist when he moved up to Human Resources manager. He liked her. She liked him, too. Of course he had a knockout girlfriend who was a Marketing Division manager in Houston, but she was always on the road somewhere. He was lonely. So he had lunch frequently with Jodie. She was trying very hard to develop a crush on him. He was beginning to notice her. Alexander had accused her of trying to sleep her way to the executive washroom…

“I was not!” she exclaimed, remembering his unexpected visit to her office with an executive of the company who was a personal friend. It had played havoc with her nerves and her heart. Seeing Alexander unexpectedly melted her from the neck down, despite her best efforts not to let him affect her.

“Excuse me?” Margie replied, aghast.

Jodie sat up quickly. “Nothing!” she said. “Sorry. I was just thinking. Did you know that Alexander has a friend who works for my company?”

There was a long pause. “He does?”

“Jasper Duncan, the Human Resources manager for our division.”

“Oh. Yes. Jasper!” There was another pause. “How do you know about that?”

“Because Mr. Duncan brought him right to my desk while I was talking to a…well, to a good friend of mine, my boss.”

“Right, the one he thinks you’re sleeping with.”

“Margie!” she exploded.

There was an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. I know there’s nothing going on. Alexander always thinks the worst of people. You know about Rachel.”

“Everybody knows about Rachel,” she muttered. “It was six years ago and he still throws her up to us.”

“We did introduce him,” Margie said defensively.

“Well, how were we to know she was a female gigolo who was only interested in marrying a rich man? She should have had better sense than to think Alexander would play that sort of game, anyway!”

“You do know him pretty well, don’t you?” Margie murmured.

“We all grew up together in Jacobsville, Texas,” Jodie reminded her. “Sort of,” she added pensively. “Alexander was eight years ahead of us in school, and then he moved to Houston to work for the DEA when he got out of college.”

“He’s still eight years ahead of us,” Margie chuckled. “Come on. You know you’ll hate yourself if you miss this party. We’re having a houseful of people. Derek will be there,” she added sweetly, trying to inject a lure.

Derek was Margie’s distant cousin, a dream of a man with some peculiar habits and a really weird sense of humor.

“You know what happened the last time Derek and I were together,” Jodie said with a sense of foreboding.

“Oh, I’m sure Alexander has forgotten about
that
by now,” she was assured.

“He has a long memory. And Derek can talk me into anything,” Jodie added worriedly.

“I’ll hang out with both of you and protect you from dangerous impulses. Come on. Say yes. I’ve got an opportunity to show
my designs. It depends on this party going smoothly. And I’ve made up this marvelous dress pattern I want to try out on you. For someone with the body of a clotheshorse, you have no sense of style at all!”

“You have enough for both of us. You’re a budding fashion designer. I’m a lady executive. I have to dress the part.”

“Baloney. When was the last time your boss wore a black dress to a party?”

Jodie was remembering a commercial she’d seen on television with men in black dresses. She howled, thinking of Alexander’s hairy legs in a short skirt. Then she tried to imagine where he’d keep his sidearm in a short skirt, and she really howled.

She told Margie what she was thinking, and they both collapsed into laughter.

“Okay,” she capitulated at last. “I’ll come. But if I break a tree limb over your brother’s thick skull, you can’t say you weren’t forewarned.”

“I swear, I won’t say a word.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday afternoon about four,” Jodie said with resignation. “I’ll rent a car and drive over.”

“Uh, Jodie…”

She groaned. “All right, Margie, all right, I’ll fly to the Jacobsville airport and you can pick me up there.”

“Great!”

“Just because I had two little bitty fender benders,” she muttered.

“You totaled two cars, Jodie, and Alexander had to bail you out of jail after the last one…”

“Well, that stupid thickheaded barbarian deserved to be hit! He called me a…well, never mind, but he asked for a punch in the mouth!” Jodie fumed.

Margie was trying not to laugh. Again.

“Anyway, it was only a small fine and the judge took my side when he heard the whole story,” she said, ignoring Margie’s quick reminder that Alexander had talked to the judge first. “Not that your brother ever let me forget it! Just because he works for the Justice Department is no reason for him to lecture me on law!”

“We just want you to arrive alive, darling,” Margie drawled. “Now throw a few things into a suitcase, tell your boss you have a sick cousin you have to take care of before rush hour, and we’ll…
I’ll
…meet you at the airport Friday afternoon. You phone and tell me your flight number, okay?”

“Okay,” Jodie replied, missing the slip.

“See you then! We’re going to have a ball.”

“Sure we are,” Jodie told her. But when she hung up, she was calling herself all sorts of names for being such a weakling. Alexander was going to cut her up, she just knew it. He didn’t like her. He never had. He’d gotten more antagonistic since she moved to Houston, where he worked, too. Further, it would probably mean a lot of work for Jodie, because she usually had to prepare meals if she showed up. The family cook, Jessie, hated being around Alexander when he was home, so she ran for the hills. Margie couldn’t cook at all, so Jodie usually ended up with KP. Not that she minded. It was just that she felt used from time to time.

And despite Margie’s assurances, she knew she was in for the fight of her life once she set foot on the Cobb ranch. At least Margie hadn’t said anything about inviting Alexander’s sometimes-girlfriend, Kirry Dane. A weekend with the elegant buyer for an exclusive Houston department store would be too much.

The thing was, she had to go when Margie asked her. She owed the Cobbs so much. When her parents, small Jacobsville ranchers, had been drowned in a riptide during a modest Florida vacation
at the beach, it had been Alexander who flew down to take care of all the arrangements and comfort a devastated seventeen-year-old Jodie. When she entered business college, Alexander had gone with her to register and paid the fees himself. She spent every holiday with Margie. Since the death of the Cobbs’ father, and their inheritance of the Jacobsville ranch property, she’d spent her vacation every summer there with Margie. Her life was so intertwined with that of the Cobbs that she couldn’t even imagine life without them.

But Alexander had a very ambiguous relationship with Jodie. From time to time he was affectionate, in his gruff way. But he also seemed to resent her presence and he picked at her constantly. He had for the past year.

She got up and went to pack, putting the antagonism to the back of her mind. It did no good to dwell on her confrontations with Alexander. He was like a force of nature which had to be accepted, since it couldn’t be controlled.

The Jacobsville Airport was crowded for a Friday afternoon. It was a tiny airport compared to those in larger cities, but a lot of people in south Texas used it for commuter flights to San Antonio and Houston. There was a restaurant and two concourses, and the halls were lined with beautiful paintings of traditional Texas scenery.

Jodie almost bowed under the weight of her oversized handbag and the unruly carry-on bag whose wheels didn’t quite work. She looked around for Margie. The brunette wouldn’t be hard to spot because she was tall for a woman, and always wore something striking—usually one of her own flamboyant designs.

But she didn’t see any tall brunettes. What she did see, and what stopped her dead in her tracks, was a tall and striking dark-haired
man in a gray vested business suit. A man with broad shoulders and narrow hips and big feet in hand-tooled leather boots. He turned, looking around, and spotted her. Even at the distance, those deep-set, cold green eyes were formidable. So was he. He looked absolutely furious.

She stood very still, like a woman confronted with a spitting cobra, and waited while he approached her with the long, quick stride she remembered from years of painful confrontations. Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. She drew in a quick breath, and geared up for combat.

Alexander Tyrell Cobb was thirty-three. He was a senior agent for the Drug Enforcement Administration. Usually, he worked out of Houston, but he was on vacation for a week. That meant he was at the family ranch in Jacobsville. He’d grown up there, with Margie, but their mother had taken them from their father after the divorce and had them live with her in Houston. It hadn’t been until her death that they’d finally been allowed to return home to their father’s ranch. The old man had loved them dearly. It had broken his heart when he’d lost them to their mother.

Alexander lived on the ranch sporadically even now, when he wasn’t away on business. He also had an apartment in Houston. Margie lived at the ranch all the time, and kept things running smoothly while her big brother was out shutting down drug smugglers.

He looked like a man who could do that single-handed. He had big fists, like his big feet, and Jodie had seen him use them once on a man who slapped Margie. He rarely smiled. He had a temper like a scalded snake, and he was all business when he tucked that big .45 automatic into its hand-tooled leather holster and went out looking for trouble.

In the past two years, he’d been helping to shut down an international drug lord, Manuel Lopez, who’d died mysteriously in an explosion in the Bahamas. Now he was after the dead drug lord’s latest successor, a Central American national who was reputed to have business connections in the port city of Houston.

She’d developed a feverish crush on him when she was in her teens. She’d written him a love poem. Alexander, with typical efficiency, had circled the grammatical and spelling errors and bought her a supplemental English book to help her correct the mistakes. Her self-esteem had taken a serious nosedive, and after that, she kept her deepest feelings carefully hidden.

She’d seen him only a few times since her move to Houston when she began attending business college. When she visited Margie these days, Alexander never seemed to be around except at Christmas. It was as if he’d been avoiding her. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, he’d dropped by her office to see Jasper. It had been a shock to see him unexpectedly, and her hands had trembled on her file folders, despite her best efforts to play it cool. She wanted to think she’d outgrown her flaming crush on him. Sadly, it had only gotten worse. It was easier on her nerves when she didn’t have to see him. Fortunately it was a big city and they didn’t travel in the same circles. But she didn’t know where Alexander’s office or apartment were, and she didn’t ask.

In fact, her nerves were already on edge right now, just from the level, intent stare of those green eyes across a crowded concourse. She clutched the handle of her wheeled suitcase with a taut grip. Alexander made her knees weak.

He strode toward her. He never looked right or left. His gaze was right on her the whole way. She wondered if he was like that on the job, so intent on what he was doing that he seemed relentless.

He was a sexy beast, too. There was a tightly controlled sensuality in every movement of those long, powerful legs, in the way he carried himself. He was elegant, arrogant. Jodie couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t been fascinated by him. She hoped it didn’t show. She worked hard at pretending to be his enemy.

He stopped in front of her and looked down his nose into her wide eyes. His were green, clear as water, with dark rims that made them seem even more piercing. He had thick black eyelashes and black eyebrows that were as black as his neatly cut, thick, straight hair.

“You’re late,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice, throwing down the gauntlet at once. He looked annoyed, half out of humor and wanting someone to bite.

“I can’t fly the plane,” she replied sarcastically. “I had to depend on
men
for that.”

He gave her a speaking glance and turned. “The car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go.”

“Margie was supposed to meet me,” she muttered, dragging her case behind her.

“Margie knew I had to be here anyway, so she had me wait for you,” he said enigmatically. “I never knew a woman who could keep an appointment, anyway.”

The carry-on bag fell over for the tenth time. She muttered and finally just picked the heavy thing up. “You might offer to help me,” she said, glowering at her companion.